


I Remember/Stranger Than You Dreamt It if Christine wasn't such a flimsy bitch

by Cruzader394



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, first fic, fluffers(in my opinion), fuck raoul, why did i do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8583388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cruzader394/pseuds/Cruzader394
Summary: The song I Remember/Stranger than you dreamt it from Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera, but with my own 'how it should have ended' twist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This my first fic, be gentle. XD

    Christine woke up to the light scratching of a quill on parchment. She glanced around the darkened cavern trying to regain what had happened to get her here. _I remember there was mist... Swirling mist upon a vast glossy lake... There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat. And in the boat there was a man._ At this recollection she looked up towards the scratching. And she saw that same man, sitting at a piano composing music. She took him in; his dark black hair, the formal but flowing way he held himself as he wrote. And his mask, covering the right side of his face. She couldn't see the other side of him and her curiosity overwhelmed her. She slowly got up from her pillow bed in the boat. _So this is my master, my angel_ ; she thought. She was careful to be silent, not wanting to interrupt him as he composed for fear of breaking his concentration on whatever masterpiece it was. But, the curiosity still stabbed at her. She wanted to see what was under the mask. _What could he be hiding? On only one side of his face? Or, maybe, it's for show. Goodness if Meg were here she'd chastise me for wanting to invade the space of a man I only know by voice._ Christine inched toward his chair, through the small maze of candles. She was behind him now. How he hadn't noticed her yet, astounded her. She glanced over his shoulder at his piece in the works, it looked very complicated and, from what she could see, very good indeed. Her eyes flicked to the side to glance once more at his mask. And she could not help herself, she reached out slowly and the tips of her fingers hooked on its edges. She got this far, and took no last chance of running away. She pulled the mask off, and- "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" Her master let out a terrible cry! And he rounded on her immediately. He screamed, "DAMN YOU YOU LITTLE PRYING PANDORA! YOU LITTLE DEMON! This is what you wanted to see?!"

Christine's POV

I was so startled I let out a shriek, myself. He was gaining on me and I couldn't understand! Why was he so angry?! Was it his face? I couldn't see anything to be that enraged about. "WAIT," I cried. "MASTER STOP!" He kept on advancing me yelling. I couldn't help but get riled up myself, and then I said it. Screamed it really, I was quite afraid. "I am not a viper!!! Master! Please!... YOUR FACE LOOKS FINE!!! STOP YELLING!!!!!" I don't think I've breathed so hard in my life. If not for us catching our breaths this cavern would've been as silent as father's grave.

Erik's POV

She... She... What? I- I don't understand. Why isn't she cowering in disgust trying to get away from me. How can she bear to look at me and all that is deformed of my face. This angel, my angel. She is too pure. "C-Christine..." I whispered, afraid any louder would shatter this atmosphere we have created betwixt us. And that damn stutter, my shock makes me sound weak. But I hear something, it's coming from her I can tell. She seems to still be in shock as well, though for a different reason than I. But, she's smiling nonetheless. "Why do you hide yourself?" She asks, as if she truly does not understand what's wrong with me. "Master I-" "Erik," I cut her off. My lovely student. So full of beauty and talent, she gazes at me with a slightly confused glaze in her eyes. "Pardon?" She asks. I see. I go on to clarify,"My name. It is Erik."

Christine's POV

Erik, that's a well name. He holds his voice so confident, I wonder if he knows he let some nervousness slip through. He looks like nothing I've ever seen. His slick black hair falls a bit into his eyes where it has become un-slicked. His golden eyes searching mine as the reflection of the candles flicker within them. "I am allowed to call you by name now, sir?" I ask to be perfectly sure. Although, why else would my teacher tell me his first name? His voice cuts through the muted dark a bit more confident and sure than before,"Yes, Christine, you may call on me as such." We stay like that for a short while, I, still sat on the floor with his mask in my hand, he, still kneeling before me. After whatever spell we had been under had been broken he stood. He helped me up, and we went on about music. He told me of the world he sees, this Music of the Night. And he sang to me, his voice flowing through me as if it were water or one's lifeblood. The raw emotions that poured from his mouth, the notes, the sound, the music! It was something in the air or the enlightenment of our art, we stopped for a moment and it felt as if nothing could get and better. Soft. That's all it was. A lingering peck of the lips, but it was there. A smile split my face and he looked so elated but lost. It was a bit heartbreaking to see someone so sweet and so talented be so alone and lost. I held him and sang Little Lottie to soothe him. We gazed into each other's eyes and shared one more kiss. I am unsure how long we talked and sang, but I remembered that I was supposed to go to dinner with my old friend, Raoul. "Oh my goodness! They're all probably worried sick!!" Erik looked at me a slight bit confused at my outburst, but he quickly caught on. "Yes. Come, you must return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you."

Third-Person POV

They walked back to the boat, and Christine turned around to face her old teacher, and new-found love. "Do you really need to be so harsh, they are trying." Erik ushered her into the boat and started to row as he said, " I truly hope you jest, Christine. Firmin and André, the imbeciles, are the least qualified to run an opera house as magnificent as this." Christine laughed at his antics as he took her back to where he had removed her hours before.

~FIN~


End file.
